CFS Challenge: Hickory Hollow vs. Ouisie's Table

This chicken-fried steak (CFS) challenge features two of Houston's traditional CFS heavyweights: Ouisie's Table and Hickory Hollow. Although the chicken-fried steaks at these two restaurants are consistently rated as the best in Houston, both the restaurants as well as their corresponding steaks are worlds apart.

Hickory Hollow

Hickory Hollow

Hickory Hollow has been serving CFS and other comfort foods in gigantic portions at reasonable prices since 1977. Located in a time-worn brick-sheathed building on Heights Boulevard (there are two other locations) just north of a rapidly gentrifying stretch of Washington Avenue, it caters primarily to a mixed blue-and-white collar crowd. On a recent weekday lunch, the restaurant was packed with a mix of downtown office workers, hipsters from the adjacent Washington corridor, elderly patrons who appeared to be longtime regulars (judging from the banter at the counter), and a table full of police officers.

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This is a counter-service restaurant: get in line and peruse the wall-mounted menu. Step-up to the counter, place your oder, pay, and then you get one of those buzzer things to take with you to your table. You are provided with a tray, and you pass through a salad bar and self-serve drink area. It's a great communal atmosphere, with small four and two-top table intermixed with communal and picnic tables. When the buzzer goes off, you trek back to the counter to pick up the order yourself.

The CFS comes in a whopping four sizes: from the "Small Cowgirl" (billed as "perfect for the ladies"), the "Small Plowman" ("perfect for lunch"), the "Medium Hired Hand" ("Texas size"), and the "Large Rancher" ("the Saddle Blanket"). Prices are very reasonable, ranging from about eight dollars to thirteen dollars. A salad is included, and a choice of fries or a baked potato. I ordered the Large Rancher with fries ($11.49).

Hickory Hollow CFS

The breakdown:

Meat. The steak itself was fresh, nicely tenderized (fork tender), with a good thickness and perfectly cooked. Regrettably, the meat itself was completely devoid of seasoning.

Crust. The crust was fried to a gorgeous golden-brown color - this is what a CFS is supposed to look like. The crust was wonderfully crispy and although it pulled apart from the meat, the overall technical execution of the steak was excellent. Unfortunately I found the crust, like the meat, to be devoid of any flavor or seasoning.

Gravy. It's possible for a bland CFS can be rescued by an otherworldly gravy, but that wasn't the case here. Supposedly a cream gravy, this gravy had an unusual yellowish tint and a gummy texture. It reminded me of the turkey gravy you get at Thanksgiving. Strangely, it is identified on the menu as "Texas River Bottom Gravy."

Value. Excellent. The mammoth "Large Rancher" CFS is a steal at $11.49 (with fries) or $13.49 (with baked potato).

Extras. I did not notice (and was not offered) any standard CFS extras like rolls or cornbread.

Overall grade: B- . That such a beautiful looking CFS could taste so bland is depressing. But if you can spice it up yourself with some salt and pepper, ketchup and tabasco, this huge portion at the right price is worth the trip.

Ouisie's Table

Ouisie's Table is a meandering maze of a restaurant off San Felipe in the decidedly upscale Afton Oaks/River Oaks neighborhood. The crowd is upscale too, as is the menu - billed as upscale southern food with eclectic tendencies. Still, sitting in the main dining area with other diners who, on another night, might be at Tony's or Del Frisco's, you can't help but feel at home. An army of servers and staff flitter about the room, graciously taking orders and fussing over the clientele.

The chicken-fried steak here is a centerpiece of a large menu of kicked-up southern comfort dishes like shrimp and grits and fried oysters. Ouisie's serves food that people like to eat - a restaurant strategy that isn't as obvious as you might think. And customers reward owner Elouise Adams Jones with an often full dining room.

Not unexpectedly, wine is big here. When we sat down, the waiter rattled off any number of expensive bottles and wines by-the-glass. I can't bring myself to drink wine with CFS, so I opted for a good ol' Shiner Bock (which turned out to be a great pairing). The CFS is billed as "The Ouisie’s Original Chicken Fried Steak with The Works" at a relatively eye-popping $23 for dinner ($17 for lunch). The "works" being mashed potatoes, gravy, black eyed peas, mustard greens, and corn pudding.

Ouisie's Table CFS

The breakdown:

Meat. The steak itself was pounded thin, very tender, with excellent moisture and good flavor. This is a high quality piece of meat.

Crust. Extremely crisp and crunchy, with an undulating golden-brown color, the steak appeared to be pan-fried (that may explain why the steak was slightly greasy). There was minor separation of crust and meat. Excellent flavor and seasoning.

Gravy. This is a peppery cream gravy in the classic Southern tradition. The flavor was outstanding, but the consistency was somewhat watery - I prefer my gravy a little thicker.

Value. Average. The large CFS and plentiful sides certainly justify the $23 price tag, but it's still a bit steep for a traditionally blue-collar dish.

Extras. Before the CFS came out, a plate of tiny biscuits and cornbread was provided for noshing. Tasty but not really impactful on the CFS experience. I single-serving bottle of Tabasco sauce was provided with the CFS - a nice touch. The mashed potatoes that came with the CFS were some of the best I've had in Houston.

Overall grade: B+. Great flavor and execution, along with some delicious sides, make up for the hefty price tag.

All things considered, Ouisie's Table wins the matchup with Hickory Hollow. Great flavor and abundant sides win out over the huge portions and reasonable prices.

This blog entry was originally posted 1 December 2010 on the www.29-95.com website.

Truluck's Influencers' Event 4/7/2010

Truluck's, a small and growing chain of upscale seafood restaurants, recently sponsored an "influencers event" at its Houston location.

Truluck's Influencer's Event

An "influencer" is the newish umbrella term created by P.R. professionals that refers to traditional media plus social media types — bloggers, Twitterers and the like. It's what a "media tasting" used to be when there were just radio, TV, and newspapers. The dinner was complimentary to those who attended, including me.

Like several of my dining companions at the event, Truluck's had been completely off my restaurant radar. I remembered going there once in the distant past, when it was in a curvy, shiny, ship-like building a bit further down Westheimer. My only other recollection was that it specialized in stone crab claws.

On this Wednesday in April, Truluck's was doing a booming business in it's sleek bar and dining room, located in a strip center just past the Galleria on Westheimer. The bar was mainly filled with professional types from surrounding Galleria-area offices. An enthusiastic piano player belted out hits from R.E.M. and Steely Dan.

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Truluck's is still very much known for its Florida stone crab claws and seafood in general. It's also taken up the cause of sustainable seafood — always a plus for upscale fish restaurants. Florida stone crab claws are by nature one of the great matches of sustainability and human consumption — the big "crusher claw" that we all love to eat is harvested (ouch!) from the live crab which is then returned to the farm/ocean. It will then conveniently grow another claw in about a year. Talk about a renewable resource.

The Florida stone crab claws that came with the seafood platter were indeed delicious and I could eat my way through quite a few of them. The other appetizers were all quite good except the wedge salad which seemed dreary and droopy, and the gumbo which included tomatoes as an ingredient. This is Houston — don't put tomatoes in your gumbo, please.

The entrees were all generally good and plentiful. Texas Striped Bass Pontchartrain being a highlight. Having grown up in Southeast Texas eating pontchartrain dishes I can say this one was well executed. The Miso-Glazed Chilean Sea Bass was another standout. Chilean sea bass is usually shunned for its un-sustainability, but according to Truluck's they get their's from a sustainable farm off the coast of Chile (or is that Argentina?).

Service for the evening was professional and friendly. The general manager made frequent trips to the table and seemed genuinely interested in our experience. The wine pairings were good for the mid-range wines they served us.

Overall, Truluck's made a very positive showing for this influencer's dinner. If I'm in the mood for Florida stone crab claws, this will be the first place I think about and will go out of the way to get there. If I'm in the Galleria area without plans for lunch or dinner, and I'm in the mood for seafood, I'd definitely consider visiting Truluck's.

A Catfish Out of Water

There's a Texas A&M banner hanging over the door to the restrooms at Lafayette Cajun Seafood Restaurant. It's only one example of the endearing quirkiness of this Cajun seafood restaurant located in a crazy-quilt neighborhood surrounding the intersection of West Bellfort and Wilcrest in southwest Houston.

Lafayette Seafood Restaurant - Fried Catfish

I'm a sucker for anything food-related that's labeled "Cajun." It's a weakness I fully accept, and it led me to pull into the parking lot of the down-at-the-heels mini-mall that Lafayette Cajun Seafood shares with a washateria (coin-operated). It's an improbable location for a seafood restaurant, surrounded by smoke shops, taco trucks, and Middle Eastern ethnic markets. My philosophy about seafood restaurants is, "How bad can you screw up fried catfish?" Of course, it's really quite easy to screw up fried catfish. But I'm an optimist.

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Lafayette Seafood Restaurant

Even before you step into the restaurant, you are confronted with five, count'em five, signs taped to the front door that say "No public restrooms." Maybe the A&M banner is some kind of final warning?

Lafayette Seafood Restaurant

I was seated at a table by myself in a half full restaurant around lunchtime on a Saturday. Inexplicably, each table had a removable tag with a number on it. Presumably the table number? I'd certainly never seen this before in a restaurant. As the friendly and efficient waiter took my order, I imagined the owner shuffling the numbers every morning just to keep the waiters on their toes. I liked that.

Every Cajun seafood restaurant can be judged by two things: gumbo and fried catfish. I ordered a cup of gumbo, and the fried shrimp and catfish combo. Really, just typing the words "fried shrimp and catfish" makes my mouth water. Coon-ass conditioning you might call it.

When I ordered the gumbo, I asked the waiter about the "chicken gumbo" on the menu. "Is that chicken and sausage gumbo?" I inquired. "No," he replied, "just chicken. But I can throw some sausage in there too if you like." I ordered the shrimp gumbo. When it came out, it had the requisite dark roux, but several small, rubbery shrimp were elbowed out by giant chunks of bell pepper and celery (where was the onion?). The gumbo soup was thin and one-dimensional, supported mostly with a generous component of salt. In a town with lots of good gumbo, this didn't measure up.

I didn't have much hope for the fried shrimp and catfish and resigned myself to taking one for the team. But when the dish came out, it didn't look half bad. The shrimp were small but capably fried, and quite tasty. The two generously-sized catfish fillets were fresh, flaky, moist, and covered in a finely-textured cornmeal batter. A heaping helping of dirty rice was properly prepared with flakes of meat and giblets, and mercifully devoid of any extraneous ingredients like green onions or parsley. The tartar sauce and cocktail sauce were better than expected.

As I sat and enjoyed my Cajun meal, listening to piped-in music that veered from Willie Nelson to something that sounded like Mannheim Steamroller to "Panama" by Van Halen, I asked myself, "Why, other than the competent seafood and quirky atmosphere, would someone come here rather than one of the many other Cajun restaurants in Houston?" The answer was on the menu in the form of prices. Most of the main dishes were under $10. My satisfying shrimp and catfish dinner cost all of $9.75. The same dish is listed as $18.95 at Pappadeaux and $21.00 at Danton's. It's cheap, it's good, it's Cajun. I'd go back.

This blog entry was originally posted 24 May 2010 on the www.29-95.com website.

Peju Wine Dinner at Voice 4.15.09

Voice restaurant in Houston recently hosted a dinner featuring wines from the Peju Province Winery.

The major draw for this dinner was, frankly, the price. A 5-course dinner at the highly regarded Voice restaurant at the Hotel Icon, with wine pairings by the Napa Valley (Rutherford Appellation) boutique winery Peju, all for $85?

That's a no-brainer.

After many conversations with my foodie friends I can state confidently that the days of instantly attending the one-off, triple-digit-price tasting dinners are over for now. The exception being something truly spectacular — a visit by the likes of Thomas Keller or Gordon Ramsay might qualify, or possibly something tied to a charity event. But that doesn't mean $200+ dinner events will go away. There's still plenty of demand from Houstonians with money to burn (and there are plenty of those), just not from the food blogger/foodie crowd I run with. There are just too many events to choose from and too many great dinners out there for well under $100. Plus all this eating is packing on the pounds. No need to be fat and poor.

O.K., rant over. Bottom line, the price point for this dinner was just right. On to the food and wine!

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First course. English pea and mascarpone ravioli with mint, tomato, and lemon.

Superbly conceived dish. Flavor combination extraordinary. Simple yet complex. More than the sum of the parts.

The standout here was the lemon/citrus/butter sauce. It's hard to pull off just the right balance between the acidity of the citrus and the richness of the butter. This was perfectly executed.

The dish was paired nicely with a Peju 2008 Sauvignon Blanc. The wine was bright and crisp, heavy on the citrus notes. My dining companion, @javapeg, took some time to evaluate and eventually came up with strong grapefruit, passion fruit, and pineapple notes. Reviewing the winemaker's tasting notes after the fact, flavors of passion fruit and pineapple are prominently noted. Nailed it!

Second course. Alaskan halibut with spring onions, caramelized salsify, and truffle butter.

This was one of the best worst dishes I've ever had. Let me explain. Yes, it was the worst dish of the evening. Nothing about it "popped." Generally underseasoned and bland. Flavors of the accompanying onions and salsify were M.I.A. And truffle butter? Sorry, didn't taste any truffle.

Why? I imagine Chef Michael Kramer struggled with how to balance the pungency of the truffle with the mildness of the halibut. He may have pulled his punches a bit too much on the truffle part.

Fortunately, the halibut itself was perfectly cooked and perfectly fresh with a nice salt and pepper crust. Tender, flakey, savory, and steaming. Would I like Chef Kramer to make a version of this dish with a larger portion of halibut in a simple beurre blanc or meuniere sauce? Yes, please!

This dish was paired with a Peju 2005 Merlot.

Or was it?

When the wine was poured, @javapeg and I sniffed and sipped and wrinkled our collective brows. Damn, that's a big Merlot. Whatever. We dug into the fish and sipped what was left of the Sauvignon Blanc.

Some moments later our host, Lisa Peju, courageously stood up and announced there had been a mistake. The 2005 Cabernet Sauvignon meant for the next course had been mistakenly poured for this course! Whaaaaa?

It was an excusable mistake I suppose. All of the red wine labels for the evening were virtually identical except for the varietal in small letters.

The Peju 2005 Cabernet Sauvignon itself was excellent, if not a bit pricey at $50 retail. My still-developing wine evaluation skills immediately noted a smoky, charcoal-y aroma and flavor. @javapeg refined that by noting chocolate and cocoa. After the fact review of the tasting notes mention chocolate, cocoa, and tobacco. Nailed it again!

Lisa announced that they were going with the flow and would serve the 2005 Merlot with the next course (this was the wine originally paired with the halibut). And it turned out surprisingly well.

Third course. Coriander scented venison (sous-vide) with young carrots, morels, and sour cherries.

Excellent dish. Again the flavor combinations reveal a chef at the top of his game. The venison was tender and not gamey, with what appeared to be a quick sear after the sous-vide to add some complexity of flavor. The musky morels added a nice complement to the meat (yes, morels are visually freaky). The cherry sauce added a nice sweet/sour dimension. The preparation of the baby carrots, often taken for granted by many chefs, was spot on.

The wine poured for this course was in fact the 2005 Merlot. I asked to see the label. And it worked perfectly with the venison, much better than the Cab actually. Tasting notes mention cherries, cocoa, and cranberries. This pairing worked so well that @javapeg and I wondered if the wine pouring snafu may have been one of those "made a mistake on purpose" type deals. Made for good convo anyway.

Fourth course. Braised beef cheeks with shallots, fingerlings, and braising juices.

[Sorry, pic didn't come out!]

This was the best dish of the evening. After explaining to one of our dining companions about which cheek this meat comes from (the cow head), I cut off a piece with my fork (no knife needed) and tasted. It was as tender, flavorful, and rich as you would expect beef cheek to be. The shallots and potatoes all worked well soaking in the braising liquid. A sprinking of microgreens, often assumed by diners to be inedible garnish (damn you parsley!), added a surprising note of tangy pepper to the dish.

A Peju 2006 Cabernet Franc was poured with this dish. As a stand-alone wine it's maybe not something I'd drink regularly. But the spicy/peppery flavors went well with the beef and braising liquid.

Fifth course. Vanilla panna cotta with grapefruit sorbet and pomegranate coulis.

A nice dessert course. The vanilla panna cotta was rich with a creamy/gelatin-y texture and crushed vanilla beans on top. The strong flavor of the grapefruit sorbet, although a refreshing palate cleanser, was jarring side-by-side with the panna cotta. A peach or mango sorbet may have worked better.

The dessert wine was a non-Peju Naughty Sticky wine from Naughty Cellars. It was chosen by Voice. It had a deep golden color, almost like apple juice. The staff made a full pour in a regular wine glass. Hello! Alas, the wine was sub-par in my opinion.

Some notes about everything else.

Host Lisa Peju, daughter of the winemakers, was charming and accessible. She sat down and visited every table, answering questions (Peju is French-Basque by the way).

The dinner took place in a private dining room on a mezzanine level overlooking the main dining room and bar area, separated by glass. As a reformed architect myself, I know how much designers love mezzanines. They look great in section drawings. But they often have a significant flaw — a low ceiling height resulting in a claustrophobic effect. Combine that with giant round tables seating 10 people and the space seemed crowded. More than once I peaked out to the main dining room with its soaring, airy, and well-lit space and wished I were dining out there.

I love the 10-to-a-table seating arrangement for dinners like this. Our dining companions were friendly and fun. Most of them found out about the dinner because had visited the Peju winery in Napa and had signed up for the mailing list.

Service was O.K., with the wine snafu already mentioned. I think the staff sometimes struggled with the close quarters. Strangely, the service tradition of serving women first was completely disregarded. Dishes were delivered randomly. At least once during the dinner everyone at the table was served except one person. We all thought that person had made a special order so we waited to eat. But no, it just took a few extra minutes for the last dish to arrive.

At the end of the dinner Chef Michael Kramer came out and visited with every table. That's always classy.

I had never tasted a Peju wine before this dinner. All of their wines served for this dinner were notable. Any future visit to Napa will definitely include a visit to the Peju Province Winery.

All in all a wonderful dinner, especially for the price. The service and space issues were minor, at least for me. Voice is a restaurant with a considerable reputation not just in Houston but also in Texas and the US. It lived up to its reputation.

NB. On the same day this write-up was posted my good friend ytee posted his review of Voice. An excellent read.

Spring Menu Tasting at Max's Wine Dive

Max's Wine Dive recently sponsored a tasting of their upcoming spring menu for Houston foodies, food bloggers and assorted culinary hangers-on.

The tasting, including food and wine, was provided free of charge. These are my impressions and suggestions based on my experience.

This was my first visit to Max's Wine Dive. I was familiar with The Tasting Room wine bars that dot the upscale Houston landscape and was aware that the same company owned Max's. Max's prides itself on a fusion of upscale wine chic with a dive bar vibe. The concept works well as evidenced by the packed bar and tables on a Wednesday night.

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First things first. When I'm not scribbling away about food, I run my own (unrelated-to-food) business. To me it's obvious that the company that owns Max's (and The Tasting Room locations) is a very well run business. The staff is well-trained and attentive. An attention to detail is evident, as exemplified in an ambitious menu that includes a listing of each dish followed a comprehensive itemization of ingredients (the alligator dish includes alligator meat from Janik Alligator Company of El Campo Texas). The bar space itself, tall and long with a bar running the full-length, hits the right notes for an "upscale dive bar."

So far so good. On to the food.

The menu items presented by Chef Michael Dei Maggi were clearly meant to showcase the seasonal flavors and "weight" (light, refreshing) of the dishes. Chef Michael came out guns blazing with a classic spring/summer dish — a chilled gazpacho soup. This "Gulf-Spacho" was a traditional gazpacho with chunks of seafood mixed in.

The liquid was superbly seasoned and spiced, just the right texture, with the cucumber and tomato making a refreshing and cool base for the zing of the multi-colored peppers. The seafood added an extra dimension of texture if not of flavor — only the oysters could match up flavorwise with the sharp gazpacho while the fish and shrimp chunks were filling but overwhelmed by the liquid.

I'm really enjoying the two and three-way dish trend. In this appetizer, the "Salmon Twice" was a carpaccio of salmon and then a nicely creative rillette of salmon. A rillette is basically a meat or fish that is seasoned/cured and then blended in fat until tender and creamy, chilled, and then used a spread or pâté on toast or chips. This rillette had a cap of what appeared to be clarified butter, which you had to break through and dig down to get to the salmon. A bit fussy for my taste but I liked the creativity. The salmon carpaccio was supremely fresh (it had to be, there's no masking bad raw fish) with a light/sweet vinaigrette.

This was the Cheese Course appetizer. Honestly, by this time the crowd at the dining table had reached a point of rapacious frenzy so I did not get a good taste of this dish (silly foodies! what can you do?). There were several different cheeses — sharp, creamy, mild, etc. — with proschiutto and other garnishes. Intriguingly, I kept hearing whispers about the espresso/lavender rubbed cheese. I just sipped my wine, scribbled a few notes and waited for the next course.

The last appetizer was the "Whistle Stop Special," made up of New England diver scallops perched on top of fried green tomato discs and garnished with red grapefruit and lemon butter. For me this may be the perfect summer dish. I always equate spring/summer with seafood — crawfish boils, climbing out on a jetty with a bucket of chicken necks to fish for crabs, standing waist deep in the Gulf surf and casting out for flounder. These scallops were nicely seared and seasoned, tender and juicy. The lemon butter, fried tomatoes and grapefruit offered a great sweet/tart accompaniment.

After some reflection, and at the insistence of one of my dining companions, I've concluded that the "Brown Bag Bass" was the best dish of the night (especially in the context of a spring/seasonal menu). First off, cooking/steaming fish in a pouch or bag is a superior cooking method. Then when you throw in some veggies and aromatics, the fish gets a complex infusion of flavor. Great presentation too if you crack open the pouch at the table. The whole thing just becomes one big pile of flavorful, subtle, and seasonal goodness. Such was the case here. Additional depth of flavor was introduced by a luxurious garnish of herbe pistou (basically a rich pesto without the pine nuts) with crostini and olive oil. The herbe pistou was so good it almost distracted from the subtlety of the fish!

Roast chicken is a crowd-pleaser year-round. And we all expect a big portion of mashed potatoes to come with it, but in this case the accompaniment was exquisitely seasonal — artichoke, spring bean and sweet corn succotash. The chicken skin was crispy and crunchy on the outside, the meat inside tender and juicy. Again, there is clearly a focus on quality ingredients — I really hope this quality is made available at all times and to all customers and not just for this tasting.

It's hard to make steak frites seasonal. But it doesn't need to be. People like me who crave steak frites don't give a flip if it's hot or cold outside. We just want our goddamn steak frites. So by nature this was the least seasonal dish of the bunch. The steak I sampled was cooked black-and-blue — crusty/salty black sear on the outside, as close to raw as you can get on the inside. I don't usually eat my steak this way, but I greatly appreciate Chef Michael cooking it this way because he is basically staking (ha!) his reputation on the quality of the meat. You can't cook steak this way with crap beef. The plank fries could have used a bit more crisp but were certainly enjoyable (memo to Houston chefs: there's no such thing as too crisp fries). A side salad offered some leafy green relief. The roasted marrow bone was a nice touch.

The only thing I can say about the red velvet cupcakes is that whoever sent these out of the kitchen really wanted us to taste the icing. And the icing was indeed spectacularly rich, buttery and creamy. But the red velvet cake wildly missed the mark with a dense and dusty texture and plonky flavor. Hey I'm not too proud to occasionally lick the icing off a cupcake and toss the rest, which is exactly what I did here.

Final thoughts? Chef Michael is obviously a creative, skilled, and passionate chef. You could tell that it really mattered to him that he and his staff put on a good tasting. That's appreciated by a foodie like me. In general, I thought the dishes — especially the gazpacho, scallops, and bass — hit exactly the right notes for being flavorful and filling but also refreshing, seasonal, and (relatively) light for the impending Houston summer.

Mexico's Deli

The holy grail of a food blogger is to find and write about that one undiscovered restaurant about which no one else has ever written.

It will have such great food and atmosphere that once your ground-breaking blog post is made public, you will forever be honored and revered for your culinary-investigative abilities.

Yeah, right. Problem is, there are very, very few restaurants in Houston that have not been written about. But my curiosity implores me to forge ahead. One way I track down unknown restaurants is simple: I ask people. So a couple of weeks ago at the Greek Festival, in between scarfing down spinakopitas and sipping overpriced and complexity-challenged Greek wine, Alley Cat and I chatted up a couple of nice fellows standing at the same table. Turns out they worked at the Mexican consulate here in Houston.

After the obligatory musings about politics, I rolled out my usual query to someone who might know a good "ethnic" restaurant: If your family from Mexico came to visit you in Houston and after a week of BBQ and chicken fried steak and buffalo wings they were craving an authentic Mexican dinner just like they would get at home, where would you take them in Houston? My question was answered with another question. "Which family from which part of Mexico? There are many different areas of Mexico and many corresponding cuisines," they asserted, eyes widening and voices deepening. This was getting interesting. I think my mouth started watering. Could I be on the verge of an unknown find? Read on to find out.

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We agreed on Mexico City. "Then," they whispered, "you must go to Mexico's Deli."

After a nightcap of beer and football at Griff's, I stumbled home and did the Google. "Mexico's Deli." The usual Citysearch and Yelp results. Then there it was: a review of Mexico's Deli by the indefatigable Robb Walsh at the Houston Press. Bloody hell! That guy's been everywhere and reviewed everything in freakin' Houston. My dreams of food blogging fame dashed, the next day I pulled on to the brand-spanking-new Katy Freeway and charged west to this highly recommended, Mexico City-inspired emporium for tacos and tortas.

Food/Drink (6/10)

Mexico's Deli offers tortas and tacos using meat cooked on and cut from a "trompo," or vertical spit, Mexico City-style. Similar to the vertical roasters you see at Greek and Mediterranean restaurants, the meat here is actually pre-cooked due to Houston health codes. For details on the preparation, see Robb Walsh's article above and an in-depth report here.

My first dish was pambazo, a torta with chorizo, potatoes, sour cream, cheese and lettuce. The bread is soaked in a Guajillo chile sauce and toasted.

On my first bite I discovered the chorizo pork nuggets were inedible chunks of rubbery gristle. Seriously. INEDIBLE.

WHY CAN'T I GET TENDER, GRISTLE-FREE SLICES OF PORK OR BEEF AT MEXICAN RESTAURANTS ANYMORE? ARRRGH!

Maybe due to higher costs restaurants are buying crappier cuts of meat? Maybe it's the supplier cutting corners? I just don't know, but it's killing me.

Eating the sandwich usually involved the following process: take a bite, chew a couple of times, locate the rubbery nuggets, and then spit them out, machine-gun-like, into a discreetly placed napkin. It was like eating a watermelon and spitting out the seeds.

The good news is that once you got rid of the gristle nuggets, the sandwich was spectacular. The soft, toasted, smoky, peppery, drippy bread was fabuloso.

On the next visit I ordered the tacos al pastor, or tacos "shepherd style."

This included a triumvirate of multi-layered corn tortillas piled high with roasted pork, fresh cilantro, onions and pineapples with jugs of green (tomatillo/avocado) and red sauce (something really hot) on the side. Oh dear lord this was a wonderful dish. How often do you find anything this authentic inside the loop? A pile of cilantro and pineapples? Most Americans wouldn't go near it. But it was oh so good. Even the pork, still a bit chewy in places, helped make this dish great.

On my last visit, having never tried a torta there, I ordered one to go. This ginormous Mexican sandwich contained chorizo (still gristly, but a bit less so from the previous visit), cheese and mushrooms. Giving off an overwhelming fragrance and flavor of cumin, this is a sandwich that would most likely have to be "Americanized" (i.e. tone down the cumin and other spices) to work in a conventional Mex-Mex or Tex-Mex restaurant.

Service (6/10)

Counter-service. Friendly, efficient. Seat yourself. Once prepared, your food is brought out to you along with the jugs of green and red sauce.

Atmosphere (4/10)

Although Mexico's Deli may transplant authentic Mexican food to Houston, it's location and surroundings do not inspire visions of bustling market stalls in Mexico City. Rather, it sits in the most non-descript of strip centers on S. Dairy Ashford. At night, it's the only store open in the center. But it is strangely welcoming, this oasis of light on a darkened strip of boulevard in Houston's exurbs. The first time I visited, late in the evening, the store was brightly lit but completely empty. Normally not a good sign, but as I settled in there was a steady stream of Mexican-Americans (very good sign for a Mexican restaurant) ordering take-away at the counter. I can safely say that I was the only gringo there for the duration of my visit.

[If you've worked up an appetite to this point, you may want to skip the next paragraph.]

Unfortunately the restroom, though not completely squalid, left much to be desired. Not quite bad enough to be a deal breaker for me, but the floor was wet and littered with toilet paper, the toilet wouldn't flush completely (both visits) and the dispenser was out of soap.

Value (8/10)

The tacos al pastor at $4 is one of the single best food deals in all of Houston. The prodigious tortas, half of which would make a meal and the other half good for the next day, are also a great value at $6-$7.

The Bottom Line (6/10)

I really like Mexico's Deli. If just for the uniqueness of the dishes and flavors. It is true that the food at Mexico's Deli has not been "Americanized." Eating and savoring the tacos al pastor, ladling on generous pools of red and green sauce, smelling the roasted pork and fresh corn tortillas and cilantro — you do feel like you're in a different place. Now if they can consistently serve up good quality meat and keep their bathrooms clean, I might be tempted to trek out to S. Dairy Ashford on a regular basis.

Chef Olivier Ciesielski wine dinner at 13 Celsius

Being a foodie is kind of like being a junkie — you’re always on the make for your next big score. So it was with great interest that I became aware of a French wine pairing dinner at Houston wine bar 13 Celsius.

This 6 course dinner had all the makings of an exceptional culinary experience. With limited seating and for one night only, a young and talented local chef would collaborate with a creative and inventive Houston wine bar.

Preparing the dinner would be Chef Olivier Ciesielski, formerly of Tony’s and an October ‘07 appearance on Iron Chef America (as part of Charles Clark’s team) against Mario Batali in "Battle: Halibut" (they lost to Batali by one point!).

Pairing the wines with Ciesielski’s menu would be proprietor Mike Sammons of the highly regarded Houston wine bar, 13 Celsius. The dinner would take place at 13 Celsius’ midtown location: a circa-1927 Mediterranean-style building that has been immaculately restored by 13 Celsius partner Ian Rosenberg.

So the stage was set. And yet I had … misgivings. Why? First and foremost, wine pairing dinners are always hit-and-miss affairs. It is both difficult and easy to pull off a dinner of this type — easy because you can put good food and wine in front of most people and they will be happy. Difficult because without a clear vision of the dinner there are a lot of things that can go wrong. Additional doubts arose from the fact that this would be a sophisticated dinner created in a place with no kitchen. And how would the service be in an improvised dining room?

These were all legitimate doubts and questions whose resolution I greatly anticipated upon arrival at 13 Celsius for the second, 9pm seating. Was this ambitious French wine pairing dinner a hit or a miss?

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This wine pairing dinner was most definitely a hit, a great success.

By all indications this event was conceived with a sweeping, challenging palette of flavor, texture, pacing, and presentation in both the food and the wine. There was clearly a vision established first by the fall-inspired menu of Chef Ciesielski, and then that was “riffed” on by Mr. Sammons in the wine pairings. With a wine dinner like this the individual success or failure of a dish or pairing is unimportant. This dinner demands to be evaluated as a whole, rather than as a succession of individual parts. I’ll first describe the individual dishes and then try to bring it back full circle with an evaluation of the dinner as a whole.

Food/Drink (8/10)

1^st Course

Food: Seasonal hors d’oeurves

Wine: Phillippe Foreau Vouvray Brut

The 1^st course was a rapid-fire succession of eclectic amuse-bouches. There were hits and misses. Fortunately the misses were slight and the hits were out of the park.

Legendary chef Jean-Georges Vongerichten has said that “The amuse-bouche is the best way for a great chef to express his big ideas in small bites.” How perfectly applicable to this occasion. Chef Ciesielski was clearly foreshadowing the future courses in the diversity and balance of flavors and textures, particularly the combination of sweet and savory dishes.

The dishes included a gazpacho of tomato and butternut squash, proschiutto and melon skewer, crostini with truffle oil and cherry tomato, a liver and fennel tart, pepper-crusted tuna with goat cheese skewer, and climaxed with a fois gras and bacon lollipop (yes, you read that last one right, more on this in a moment).

The gazpacho was a “noble failure,” mostly in presentation. The luminescent fall-orange liquid was served in a clear, thin test tube. Presented to the guests in a test tube rack rather than a traditional (and useless in this case) serving tray, this was a provocative start to the dinner experience. Alas, the presentation proved the dish’s downfall. How exactly do you eat out of a test tube? You could not “drink” it because the liquid, both chilled and viscous, wouldn’t budge. A straw was not part of the place setting, so sucking it out like a milk shake was apparently not intended. We resorted to upturning the tube over a plate and waited for the liquid to slowly glide out (Carly Simon’s song Anticipation playing in my head now). A few timely shakes helped, but the gazpacho was still dribbling out when the next dish arrived. We spooned up what gazpacho we could get out — it was fresh and well-prepared — and moved on to the next offering.

The highlight of the 1^st course was undoubtedly the fois gras and bacon lollipop. This was a round, half-inch scoop of fois gras coated with fresh, crumbled bacon chunks and then impaled onto a toothpick. The salty-meaty flavor and the buttery texture of the fois gras, combined with the crunch and smokiness of the bacon bits, was hedonistic. If there is a foodie heaven where you never get fat, never get tired of eating the same thing, and never worry about daily nutrition, then it would probably feature a never-ending buffet of fois gras coated in bacon chunks.

I suspect the wine pairing choice for this course was particularly challenging. There is just too much going on flavor-wise to choose a traditional “pairing” of wine. So I think Mr. Sammons did something both clever and obvious: choose a traditional aperitif in a sparkling Vouvray Brut. There is enough balance here to work with all the 1^st course dishes, but also enough complexity to possibly pick up on some of the dish’s flavors. And although I may be reading too much into this choice of wine, the Vouvray with its sparkling, crisp, and fresh (sometimes called “lemony”) character could almost be interpreted as a palate cleanser between the many and combative flavors of the 1^st course dishes.

2^nd Course

Food: Tropical ceviche with scallop, shrimp, citrus and serrano

Wine: Henri Bourgeois Sancerre d’Antan ‘05

Ceviche is a dish that often separates foodies from non-foodies. Like many ethnic dishes — sushi, mole, natto — it can be an acquired taste. The typical American diner who frequents restaurants like Outback, Chili’s or even Red Lobster will surely never be presented with ceviche as a menu option. It is a challenging dish both in its consumption and preparation.

Chef Ciesielski’s ceviche was particularly inventive, mainly in presentation. The ceviche was served in a funnel-shaped dish that rested on a circular dish below. The lower dish contained dry ice in liquid that accomplished two purposes—one practical and one for presentation. First, it kept the dish chilled — essential for ceviche. Second, the dry ice made for a swirling, “steaming” presentation at the table. Coming after the test tube gazpacho, I began to think there may be a mad scientist theme to this dinner! The “steam” coming from the dry ice was reminiscent of sizzling fajitas brought to the table at a Mexican restaurant. I half-expected the server to say “Be careful, plate’s hot!” But of course this is a cold dish. I have no idea of Chef Ciesielski meant to elicit such a clash between expectation and reality, but I found it to be unique and creative.

The ceviche itself was of the tropical variety, containing scallops and shrimp, citrus and serrano. The citrus marinade contained lemon, lime, mango, orange and pineapple. The shellfish were properly marinated/cooked — tender and fresh. The citrus was overly sweet — I thought it could have used a bit more tartness for balance. I tasted no flavor of serrano. The wine, a Sancerre known for its tropical notes, was well matched.

3^rd Course

Food: Baby pumpkin with crab, green onion, mushroom and red burgundy sauce.

Wine: Camille Giroud Santenay ’05

This dish represented the first overtly fall-inspired dish of the dinner, both in presentation and in the use of a baby pumpkin as the main ingredient. The pumpkin was cooked until sweet and tender. The mixture of Burgundy sauce, mushrooms, crab and green onion was spread on top. The deep, earthy richness of the Burgundy sauce worked well with the sweetness of the pumpkin. The crab meat was an intriguing choice for this dish. I did not taste the flavor of the crab meat. It seemed to be overwhelmed by the Burgundy sauce. But the crab meat introduced an interesting texture to the mixture, adding a firmness that balanced the softness of the mushrooms. My portion lacked in green onions, which would have added a welcome “snap” or “tang” to the earthiness of the Burgundy sauce.

Also included as part of this dish was a jumbo shrimp on a rustic skewer. This seemed like an afterthought. I imagine that after plating the baby pumpkin for the first time, the dish appeared lacking and the shrimp was brought in to punch things up. I don’t think it hurt or helped the dish.

The real standout for this course was the wine. The Santenay Burgundy was off the charts. It paired well with the Burgundy sauce, the earthiness of the mushrooms, and the sweetness of the pumpkin.

4^th Course

Food: Beef medallion with butternut squash and yukon gold potato, with a shallot pepper sauce.

Wine: Chateau Franc Patarabet, St. Emilion Grand Cru ’05

This course, the “entrée” of the dinner, marked a shift in pacing. After the mad scientist fireworks of previous dishes, this dish offered back-to-basics comfort food — good ol’ meat and potatoes. But if you weren’t paying attention, you may have missed a few details. First, the beef medallion was properly seasoned and cooked to a perfect medium rare with nice caramelization. A well-executed steak is not always guaranteed even in the best of restaurants. It is even more impressive here given the improvised kitchen. Similarly well-prepared, the potatoes and squash were crisp on the outside and moist on the inside. But what really pulled it all together was the classic sauce of garlic, shallots and cracked pepper. There was a subtle depth and balance here. The sweetness of the cooked shallots and garlic combined with the spice of the pepper worked well with the beef.

The choice of wine matched the dish perfectly. In some wine pairing dinners the knee-jerk choice for any beef dish would be a monster Cabernet Sauvignon. Fortunately, that was not the choice here. A restrained but still full-bodied St. Emilion was well-conceived.

5^th Course

Food: Blue Cheese Terrine with dried apricot, fig and pecan

Wine: Les Clos Sacres Savennièrres ’05

After the relative restraint of the previous course, Chef Ciesielski once again amped up the dinner with a terrine of blue cheese (Roquefort), nuts, figs and dried apricots. Once placed in the mouth, the uber-savory blue cheese just went to war with the laid-back sweetness of the nuts, figs and apricot. But the extreme contrasts of the ingredients, both in flavor and texture, ultimately combined into a provocative and successful dish. This culinary détente was helped along by the inspired choice of wine — a Savennières from the acclaimed Nicolas Joly.

6^th Course

Food: Apple tart with vanilla ice cream

Wine: Chateau Guiraud “Oriel” Sauternes ’02

For the final course, Chef Ciesielski returned to a familiar, comfort-inducing crowd-pleaser — apple tart with vanilla ice cream. Nothing fancy, nothing tweaked, nothing elaborated upon. As it should be.

The crust was crisp, flaky and sufficiently carbonized. Proving his French background, Chef resisted the ever-present American temptation to over-sweeten the apple filling, rather letting the natural sweetness of the apple and caramelization do the job. The vanilla ice cream, reportedly made from scratch, added a nice counterpoint to the acidity of the apples.

The accompanying Sauternes dessert wine was an excellent match to the sweetness and acidity of the tart.

Service (7/10)

The service, carried out by 13 Celsius staff, was smooth, skilled and unobtrusive. The smallish, eurocafé-style, round tables were elegantly appointed and mercifully uncluttered. There were a couple of details that could have been improved upon. Not unexpectedly for a one-time, multi-course dinner, the servers were not as familiar with the dishes as they would be in a restaurant. Questions about the food often involved back-and-forth trips between the table and chef. Also, a nicely printed menu would have been a good reference for the guests. And this becomes not only a souvenir for the guest, but also a promotional tool for the host — many foodies will even frame these menus, or at least prominently display them in a scrapbook, diary, or blog.

Atmosphere (10/10)

13 Celsius is one of those rare establishments where once you get in and sit down, you feel like you've left Houston and been transported to a different city or country. For this dinner we could have been in a small café in the Marais district of Paris, sitting at tables pressed against windows overlooking the boulevard outside, dimly lit, with an attentive and harried chef working from a small galley kitchen (I realize that comparing midtown Houston to Le Marais in Paris is a stretch but, hey, I'm a romantic!).

Value (7/10)

Can a $110 wine dinner be a good value? I think most people would say it’s extravagant. It’s both. The same 6 course dinner at any high-end Houston restaurant would cost at least $200. In NYC, probably $300. And those are just the cold, hard numbers. When you factor in the convivial atmosphere, a creative and detail-oriented chef cooking for a small group, and an inspired sampling of low-production, high-quality wines, this was an extravagance at a very reasonable price.

The Bottom Line (9/10)

This wine dinner was successful because the chef put together a menu with an overall vision in mind, balancing and alternating between the sweet and the savory, the traditional and the experimental, the familiar and the unfamiliar, hot and cold, bold and subtle. Similarly, the wine pairings were chosen deliberately and thoughtfully. There was clearly a “method to the madness.” A few things did not work. But that doesn't matter. It only matters that Chef Ciesielski and Mr. Sammons were willing to take risks, to try interesting and creative things, and execute them with care and precision.

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My original notes are below:

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Felix Mexican Restaurant: Old school, no reservations, no apologies

“I remember eating there when I was a kid!” This is the initial response when I invite my thirtysomething friends to dinner at Felix Mexican Restaurant. But this is usually followed by, “Let’s go somewhere else.”

Indeed, dining at Felix can be a lonely, as well as satisfying, affair. Living nearby, I pass Felix every day and never see more than 2 or 3 tables occupied. Suffice it to say that no reservations are necessary. Obviously, the history of Felix is long and colorful and beyond the scope of this review. But in order to set the stage I’ll briefly give my own personal experience with Felix Mexican restaurant.

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Growing up in Beaumont, Texas, there were two choices for Mexican food: Felix (owned by the same family as the Felix in Houston) and Monterrey House. Monterrey House was closer to the “nicer” neighborhoods of Beaumont, so that is where we dined more often. Felix was on Calder Ave. on the way into downtown, you couldn’t miss it. By the time I got a driver’s license, I would occasionally trek to Felix for what my young palate deemed the superior Mexican food in Beaumont. And like the Felix in Houston in 2007, dining at the Felix in Beaumont circa 1985 was a lonely affair–I was usually the only one in the place. Around this time the Casa Ole Mexican restaurant chain got its start in Beaumont and that’s where all the cool kids hung out. Stubbornly, I continued patronizing Felix, sometimes taking dates there. Being 17 years old, on a first date, in an empty Mexican restaurant, surrounded by puzzled Mexican waiters, and eating food that would be considered boring compared to Casa Ole’s atomic tex-mex, well, let’s just say I didn’t get alot of second dates. After moving away from Beaumont to go to college, I never went back to a Felix restaurant until I moved to Houston. And it was at the remaining Felix restaurant near Montrose and Westheimer where I found myself dining on a Tuesday night not long ago.

The Holy Trinity of Mexican Food

Food/Drink (5/10)
First things first: magarita, chips and salsa.

The margarita was strong and tasty, nothing special, but enjoyable and satisfying. The chips were hot and fresh. The salsa was clearly old-school. Very tomato-ey, but surprisingly sweet with a spicey kick. The kick must have come from jalapenos as I could not detect any recognizable cilantro or garlic. Compared to contemporary tex-mex salsa, the sweetness and wateriness of this salsa may be off-putting for some diners. For me it was a welcome change.

Felix is known for its chili con queso, but tonite I went straight for the combination plate, Felix Mexican Dinner #1. This consisted of a beef taco, rice, tostada “veracruzana”, tamale, and cheese enchilada, with the final two smothered in Felix’s signature chili gravy. And you know this is old-school tex-mex when you can get an optional side of spaghetti and chili gravy. Tempting, but maybe next time.

That chili gravy is c-r-a-z-y !

The tostada, rice, tamale, enchilada and chili gravy were all quite bland but well-prepared and enjoyable; these are recipes suited to a palate from the 1950s when the experience of gastronomical fireworks was not the norm it is today. The one standout feature of the enchilada was the presence of fresh, crisp and very sweet chunks of onion sprinkled over the top of the cheesy enchiladas. You don’t see this alot in contemporary tex-mex.

The standout dish was the beef taco. The taco shell was made the old-school way–fresh corn tortilla fried and shaped until golden brown. This results in a perfect edible container for the ground beef, lettuce and tomatoes. Unlike store-bought taco shells which are so crispy they often break up during eating, tacos shells prepared this way retain a chewy/crispy texture that holds its form after biting into it. The beef was coarsely ground and spicey, and the lettuce fresh. The chopped tomatoes had a peculiar orange tint to them, but by all measures were fresh and flavorful.

Having been denied flan during a previous visit to a different tex-mex restaurant, I ordered it here for dessert (flan and sopapillas were the only desserts offered). What arrived was, again, bland yet edible. The caramel syrup was watery but sufficiently sweet. The custard had a good, silky texture, but lacked any flavor of cream or vanilla that is to be expected from good flan. Strangely, the plate was warm but the flan was (appropriately) cold.

Generally, this is the same food I remember from growing up. Of all the dishes, the beef tacos have stood the test of time better than anything else. On future visits to Felix (and there will be many as long as it is open) I will order the beef taco plate and an obligatory side of chili con queso.

Service (7/10)
The service was excellent. There were literally more staff in the restaurant than customers.

Atmosphere (6/10)
From the half-broken neon signs and faded Houston Press banner claiming “best retro-mex 2004” on the outside, to an interior filled with rickety hand-painted chairs and walls covered with pictures of the Felix Tijerina family, the atmosphere at the Felix Mexican Restaurant is, like the food, a fascinating time-warp. The sheet of glass covering my table protected pictures and nametags from a recent reunion of Lamar High School c/o 1954.

Value (4/10)
Although the food may be from the 1950s, the prices are not. Most entrees are in the $10 range, comparable to the higher end of prices at contemporary tex-mex restaurants like La Mexicana. But Felix has a loyal and captive audience who is willing to pay these prices to get the retro-mex food that they crave.

The Bottom Line (5/10)
Felix unapologetically gives its loyal customers exactly what they want: time-warp tex-mex food from the 1950s, attentively prepared, forever unchanging. If a contemporary Mexican restaurant were serving this food, it would not be a Foodie Favorite. But this is Felix, and respect must be paid. Being a Foodie is not just about gastronomical adventure. It is also about tradition and history. The value of Felix–aside from providing enjoyable if somewhat bland retro tex-mex food–is that it remains a still-living culinary baseline from which to evaluate all other tex-mex.

PostScript: By total coincidence, the day after visiting Felix here in Houston, I was reading the Beaumont newspaper website and found this article about the demolition of the old Felix restaurant location in Beaumont. (80KB PDF)

Foodie Favorite: Yes

PostScript #2, August 2008: Felix is no more. I went for lunch today and the door was locked and the lights were out. No sign on the door or any other notification of closure. But I, along with a few other bewildered lunch-goers peering through the windows, knew the unspoken truth. We nodded to each other and went our separate ways.

A week-or-so later a sign went up announcing a going-out-of-business sale. I stopped in. Not much to see but a lot of rickety chairs and a stack of old menus. I found a menu with the Houston and Beaumont locations listed and bought it for $10(!). I have made the Felix Restaurant menu available here for posterity. (130KB PDF)

District 7 Grill: A diner is a diner is a diner

There’s nothing more painful for a Houston Foodie than to see a promising young restaurant with an identity crisis. Can we help District 7 Grill find itself?

"Zesty food. Zesty life." That’s the sign that greets visitors entering the parking lot at the midtown location of District 7 Grill. Very promising. To be honest, I had no idea what the name of the restaurant was until I got inside and looked at the menu. I only knew there was a relatively new restaurant in the classic diner-looking building I always see on my way to the office. Stranded on an urban island bounded by Brazos, Pierce, and the Pierce elevated, I knew this location had been the site of various restaurants over the years, all of them diners (I presumed). So when I sat down to a late lunch on a Saturday afternoon, my expectations were immediately challenged by six words at the top of the menu: "The New Age American Urban Cuisine". Say what? I just want some eggs and taters!

Are we inspired?

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Food/Drink (4/10)
Perusing the menu, I kept asking myself, “Is this a diner”? The building itself, and the black-and-white pictures of old diner restaurants on the walls and menu, would suggest just that. Or is it a “grill” as the name implies? Well the menu laid to rest any doubts: this was indeed “new age American urban cuisine”. Grilled sushi tuna salad with pecans and pesto vinaigrette? Not gonna find that at the Pig Stand (R.I.P.). I chose the most recognizable diner food I could find–pecan pancakes with eggs, sausage, bacon, and “country potatoes”. In other words, eggs and taters.

From the picture above you can see the plating/presentation was a bit…droopy. But tasting is believing, so I dug in. The eggs, ordered over-easy, were small, overcooked, and unseasoned. The breakfast sausage and bacon were tasty and good, if somewhat greasy, but that’s to be expected. The pancakes were thin and dry, with a miserly jumble of chewy pecans cooked into the middle. The individually packaged containers of syrup were scary, but the syrup was edible. The only inedible part of the dish was the “country potatoes”. I never understood the idea of mixing pieces of onions and bell peppers in with breakfast potatoes. Just give me some crunchy, seasoned, shredded taters and I’m happy. But these potatoes were accompanied by dry and bland, yet colorful, pieces of bell peppers. Unfortunately they did nothing to improve the potatoes. I’m not exactly sure how they were prepared, but at some point these mushy chunks of potatoes were fried in oil that must have been days old. They were, unfortunately, inedible. On the bright side, in true diner fashion, the cup of coffee was fresh, strong and hot.

Service (6/10)
The two servers were solicitous, friendly, sincere, and yet somehow distracted. They were doing some type of paperwork, presumably to close out the lunch service.

Hmmm...looks like a diner to me.

Atmosphere (7/10)
The atmosphere is wonderful. It has a great diner feel, with a counter and kitchen on one side, and bells dinging to alert the servers that the orders are ready. On the other side, a row of booths align along a full wall of windows looking out to a narrow patio and Pierce Street beyond. Catty-corner to the restaurant is the Houston Technology Center which surely provides a built-in clientele during the week. People in technology incubators LOVE TO HAVE MEETINGS, so I imagine a bustling weekday lunch service with aspiring entrepreneurs sketching their best ideas on District 7 Grill napkins.

Value (5/10)
The prices are excellent, but the value is OK. Amazingly there is nothing on the menu over $10. But I would pay a little extra to eat food of a higher quality and prepared with more inspiration.

The Bottom Line (5/10)
So is this diner food, or new age urban something-or-other food? Interestingly, the menu at this midtown location appears to include “diner food” (brunch, breakfast) that is not on the menu at the downtown location. It appears as if the owners carried over their original “new age” menu to this location and then glommed on some diner items. And that would explain the identity crisis. Clearly, the proprietors of District 7 Grill are talented, sincere and successful (with the downtown location). My suggestion is this: a diner is a diner is a diner. Don’t make it out to be anything else. Serve people what they expect from a diner: the freshest, tastiest and most inspired eggs and taters you can make.

Chapultepec Lupita: No flan for you!

Chapultepec Lupita serves up great margaritas, great salsa, great food and great atmosphere. Just don’t ask for any dessert.

Tex-mex restaurants are to Houston what Ray’s Pizzerias are to NYC–seems like there’s one on every corner. So how does the typical Houston tex-mex restaurant differentiate itself from the competition? In the case of Chapultepec Lupita on Richmond Avenue in Montrose, the food is fresh and attentively prepared, the variety of tequilas is plentiful, the salsa is homemade, and the staff greet regulars with hugs and kisses (seriously). And did I mention it’s open 24 HOURS?

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Food/Drink (8/10)
On a recent Tuesday evening the restaurant was about half full. As i stretched out in a booth, the server–friendly and smiling Ines–arrived immediately with the menu and I immediately ordered a Margarita. Ines recommended the happy hour special: the Charro Rita made with El Charro Silver Tequila and La Grand Marsalle liqueur. It was excellent.

Chips and salsa arrived next. One of the best ways for a tex-mex restaurant to differentiate itself is to serve fresh salsa. Middling tex-mex restaurants might underachieve and serve Sysco salsa, or overachieve with some kind of crazy pineapple salsa. This salsa was fresh and good. Like all great salsa, the base flavor eminated from the freshly chopped tomatoes, followed by a layer of cilantro, onions and jalapeno peppers. Sippin’ my maggie and munchin’ on the chips and salsa started to raise my expectations for Chapultepec Lupita.

The main course was the Chapultepec Special: Shredded chicken enchilada, beef tamale, ground beef crispy taco, queso chip, rice and beans.

When the plate arrived, a couple of things portended a special experience–the giant queso super chip and the screaming-hot plate. So hot that the main plate sat on a stack of about 15 paper plates (presumably so as not to burn the lovely Ines), and so hot that the overflowing enchilada cheese was crusted and bubbly along the edge of the plate.

I’ve had queso chips before, but this monster covered half the plate, was perfectly crisp and crunchy, and the thin layer of queso was smooth and spicy. The highlight of the dish was definitely the chicken enchilada. The shredded chicken was moist, tender and well-marinated, wrapped with tortilla and cheese that acted as a worthy complement. The tamale was 80% masa and 20% beef, but that was OK–the masa was smoky and moist with a silky/buttery texture. The beef was almost an afterthought but added just enough zing to counter the earthy masa.

The rest of the dish was serviceable. The taco part of the crispy beef taco was crisp and fresh like the queso chip, but the ground beef was somewhat flavorless. The rice and beans were standard-issue–but again, better prepared than most and completely enjoyable.

Impressed so far, I thought I’d go for the hat-trick and try the homemade flan for dessert. And that’s where the problems started. Read on.

Service (5/10)
Service was great until the dessert course. Normally I wouldn’t get a dessert but the food up to that point was so good, I had to try the prominently displayed homemade flan. I placed the order with Ines and waited expectantly. Ines returned with a sheepish grin and some bad news. No flan for you! They had not made any flan for the day. Maybe dessert courses aren’t very popular on Tuesday night? They did have New York Cheesecake, but I passed.

Atmosphere (7/10)
Located in an old house in Montrose, dining rooms are scattered throughout the house with an enclosed patio tacked on to the front. Pictures of Lupita along the walls and neon shrines to the Virgin Mary add to the quirky atmosphere. The jukebox played (not too loudly) groovy 70’s tunes.

The eclectic crowd on this Tuesday night reflected the Montrose neighborhood. The table next to me was a young family, with the older child maybe 11 or 12, sporting a fabulous mop of dreadlocks. I knew that made him either the most popular kid in school or the biggest outcast. It didn’t take long to figure out which.

“Everbody hates me!” the child tearfully mumbled. The dad was having none of it. “We don’t hate you! Stop whining and start talking!” Conversation ensued and the child was mollified. After the food arrived the table became curiously quiet.

Value (8/10)
The value is excellent. Chips and salsa, Margarita, and a big plate of food for $16 drive-out. There were a few main courses in the $15 range–steaks and fajitas and such–but if you stick to the tex-mex basics there are few better deals out there.

The Bottom Line (8/10)
Chapultepec Lupita offers fresh, inspired, and attentively prepared tex-mex food at reasonable prices in a comfortable and friendly atmosphere. And it’s open 24/7.

Foodie Favorite: Yes

Cafe Montrose: Pulling mussels from a shell

That perennial understudy of Gulf Coast seafood, the lowly mussel, takes center stage at Cafe Montrose and turns in a command performance.

Pity the poor Texas mussel. Constantly playing second-fiddle to other more popular molluscs like clams and oysters, not to mention its crustacean cousins like crawfish, shrimp and crab, it’s fair to say that the unassuming mussel just doesn’t get any respect. Sure, it will turn up in a bowl of bouillabaise or a platter of paella, but rarely is it showcased as a dinner “main event”. Unless you visit Cafe Montrose, that institution of Belgian cuisine on lower Westheimer. And as any good international foodie knows, the Belgians are famous for two culinary distinctions: “moules” and “frites”, i.e. mussels and french fries. Oh and beer too. Stella Artois to be exact. But let’s start with the moules.

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Food/Drink (8/10)
At Cafe Montrose, you can choose to have your mussels served up in a variety of preparations, from good old-fashioned steamed mussels in white wine, to mussels in a tomato sauce, and my choice, “Moules au Gratin”, mussels in a cheesy Parmesan sauce. For me, Parmesan cheese is one of those ingredients you can add to any dish and it will make it taste like a million bucks. Kind of like bacon in that way. But I digress. The Moules au Gratin appeared before me fresh out of the oven, in the gratin dish it was cooked in (hot to the touch), with that unmistakable fragrance of baked Parmesan. The mussels remained unseen, swimming in a creamy cheese sauce hidden just under the thick, crispy crust of baked Parmesan. Taking my spoon and cracking the Parmesan crust, creme brulee-like, exposed the cheese sauce and mussels below. The savory Parmesan crust was a nice complement to the briny, metallic taste of the mussels. The neutral cheese sauce acted almost as a go-between, setting the stage for the interaction of the Parmesan and mussels. The texture of the mussels varied widely, from an almost buttery consistency (good) to stringy and chewy (not so good). But that is to be expected in the world of seafood, and a small sacrifice to make for the overall high quality of this dish.

On to the frites. What can I say? The french fries at Cafe Montrose are the best in Houston. THE BEST. And I know that over the years many people and institutions have come to the same conclusion. Well, we’re all right. Perfectly crispy and crunchy on the outside, moist and steaming on the inside. The golden brown color is emphasized by a thin sheen of cooking oil. A liberal dose of salt and ketchup makes for a perfect plate of French…er, Belgian…comfort food.

And to complement all this degustational goodness is a vastly underrated Belgian beer (at least in the US)–Stella Artois. One of my favorites, it is a smooth and mild lager that only reinforces the unassuming quality of Belgian cuisine.

One minor consideration. I live near Cafe Montrose and frequently see its (catering?) van puttering around the neighborhood. In the mornings I see it parked at a neighborhood bakery, presumably where it gets its daily bread. It’s a well-regarded bakery, so I can only assume the spongy and plastic baguette slices that were served as a complimentary appetizer did not come from that bakery. I once worked in a high-end French restaurant with outstanding food about which our customers raved, but every one of those customers complained about the quality of the bread. It wasn’t bad, just kind of chewy and dry. The owner courteously listened to the complaints and assured the diners he would take it under consideration. But it never changed. Why? He believed, and rightly so, that diners should not “fill up” before the main course on bread and butter. I’d like to think that the quality of bread at Cafe Montrose is governed by the same philosophy.

Service (6/10)
This is obviously a family-run establishment, and the staff and service reflect that. Efficient, workmanlike and attentive.

Atmosphere (7/10)
I could see where the atmosphere at Cafe Montrose would not be suitable for everyone’s taste. From the dark, low, narrow space, the dingy ceiling tiles, the kitschy European background music and posters, the funky roller chairs and the Dr. Evil action figure sitting next to the cash register, some people may find the restaurant to be a bit “cheesy”. But not me. All of these quirky qualities, combined with the family service and comfort food, work together to create a unique, warm and familiar atmosphere.

Value (7/10)
Although the cost of the typical entree here is moderately expensive, between $10 and $20, I think the value is still very good. Ingredients such as fresh mussels and Parmesan cheese are not inexpensive, so I think they are doing a good job at holding the line on customer prices.

The Bottom Line (7/10)
The dark, quirky atmosphere, the satisfying comfort food, and the familiar staff all combine to make Cafe Montrose a unique dining experience, worthy of its namesake Houston neighborhood.

Update 11/9/08
Cafe Montrose is reportedly temporarily closed. Hopefully they will reopen soon. But in these tough times who knows. I'll miss the frites.

Foodie Favorite: Yes

Julia’s Bistro: Mmmmm…cactus!

On a cool, lazy February evening, Julia’s Bistro underachieves in the kitchen, overachieves in the dining room, and commits a management faux pas.

Alley Cat and I took our time perusing the handsomely designed menus. After all, with only two other tables seated, we weren’t in any hurry.

Food/Drink (4/10)
AC suggested that a complimentary plate of munchies would be nice–some plaintain chips or tasty bread might set the mood (but no chips and salsa please). Alas none arrived so we ordered a bottle of the Tintara 2004 Shiraz, a nice choice from an excellent wine list. The rich/smooth taste did not disappoint.

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For the first course we shared an order of the Emapanadas, or “Empanaditas”, always a good measure of a Latin American menu. We chose the mixed plate–one each of pork, chicken and beans. They arrived crisp and golden brown a bed of spinach, with a cilantro/cream/garlic sauce on the side. For me, all empanadas are measured by THE Gold Standard of empanadas–the famed La Cupertina in Buenos Aires. Julia’s empanadas held up very well indeed with the crispy, steamy empanadas perfectly matched with the smooth/spicy sauce. The pastry crust was perfectly cooked, obviously from fresh dough, and the fillings delicious and fresh. The only misstep was the lack of distinct flavor of the individual fillings–the fried crust and cheese tended to muddle the taste of the pork/chicken/beans fillings to the point we were debating which was which. All-in-all a good start though.

For the main course I chose the Patito al Horno, or roasted duck in a mole poblano saucenserved with carrots and grilled nopalitos (that’s cactus for all you non-foodies). What words do I use to describe the dish that arrived? Uninspired. Underachieving. Lackadaisical. Let’s break it down. The baby carrots were crisp and fresh–no complaints there. But the duck, well, it just laid there. From the pallid grey/pink color to a texture that ranged from mushy to stringy, the chef on duty obviously was having an off night on this one. Admittedly, slow and lazy weeknights can be a challenge for restaurants to keep the focus on quality, but I thought the effort was poor. This may be a great dish on a busy night when the head chef is working, but tonite it didn’t work. As for the napolitos, after setting the plate down, our server assured me that if I didn’t like the cactus I could swap it out for something else. Ha! Our server did not know that we were foodies, and foodies eat cactus dammit! And it was good. I agreed with the server’s assessment that cactus is a bit like okra in its bitter taste and gooey texture. Fortunately the grilling preparation added a layer of flavor that made the taste unique if not completely pleasurable.

Service (6/10)
Our waiter was unfailingly polite and attentive, if a bit lethargic and inexperienced. Refreshingly, when we asked what was good on the menu, instead of the expected “Everything’s good!” he actually told us what he thought was good and maybe not-so-good. Kudos to you my friend!

At the end of the meal AC noticed a problem with the check. Specifically we were undercharged by 4 bucks on the wine. For a restaurant reviewer this is a dream come true–you can always tell alot about a restaurant based on their response to a problem. And AC, being the saucy vixen that she is, jumped all over it. “What if,” she purred, “we tell them there is a problem with the wine charge, but don’t tell them it was an overcharge or undercharge?” And that is just what she did. Experience would suggest that the waiter, eventually noticing the undercharge, would return with the check and an accommodating smile informing us that “It was undercharged, my bad, don’t worry about it.” But when the check returned it was 4 bucks MORE! D’oh! It’s not that big of a deal but I would expect a more seasoned service team to eat that charge.

Atmosphere (7/10)
Julia’s Bistro offers one of the truly urban experiences in Houston dining. With full-length windows on 2 sides of the perfectly proportioned main space, and the Metro Rail trains humming past on a regular basis, it is a comforting and enjoyable atmosphere. On this Tuesday night the noise level was quiet, although I wonder what it’s like in a full restaurant with a concrete floor and lack of sound absorbing fabrics on the walls. Lighting for the dinner hours is inviting and professionally done. It works even better from the “outside-in”–driving past the restaurant, the big picture windows frame the glow of the soft interior lighting that beckons the hungry foodie to come and bask in the atmosphere.

Value (3/10)
$100 for two people is certainly the going rate for a nice restaurant in Houston, but for this meal, the value was poor. On Julia’s best night the value will surely be good, but on this night were felt that our Benjamin could have been better spent.

The Bottom Line (4/10)
Julia’s didn’t have it tonite. Our solicitous waiter and the fantastic room were not enough to overcome the underachieving preparation of the cuisine. But I got the feeling this was just an off night and Julia’s Bistro has the potential for a more inspired effort. We will definitely dispatch a Houston Foodie reviewer for a follow-up visit sometime in the future.